


Destiel (one-shots)

by soundofthestars



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Death, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Minor Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-25
Updated: 2017-02-25
Packaged: 2018-09-26 19:43:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9919277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soundofthestars/pseuds/soundofthestars
Summary: Some silly (not-so-silly) little one-shots I've written.





	1. Freeze Tag

The angel looked upon the scene before him with confusion. The children were running around the gym, screaming. It was utter chaos. What got him the most about the situation before him was that when one of the others wearing a red jersey tagged a child who wasn’t wearing one, they would freeze in position, almost as if they had become statues.

“What is happening? What kind of magic do the children in red possess?”

A low laugh was pulled from the man beside him. “Well, Cas, the children,” Dean paused to mutter under his breath, “the little speed demons they are,” He continued on in a quiet voice, “are playing a game called freeze tag. When one of the kids in red tags the other kids they have to freeze until one of their teammates can tag them again.”

“What is the purpose of this game? Does that mean there is no end? Won’t they get exhausted doing this?”

“That’s the point. They play until they feel so tired that they want to sleep. It’s good news for the parents.”

Cas was quiet as he pondered yet another strange game. Understanding humans was becoming an even more distant goal as time passed. Just the other night he learned of something called beer pong. What strange customs. Another question was on the tip of his tongue.

As he was mid-question a hand touched his shoulder. Cas froze with his mouth open and eyes staring blankly at Dean. Maybe he would understand the game if he played.

“Uh, Castiel? Are you alright?” Sam appeared in his view. Still no movement. Dean stared at Cas for a long minute before looking away. There was a smile playing on his lips. Slowly and without even glancing at Cas, Dean reached out and touched his hand. Cas continued with the question as if he had never froze.  
Sam touched his shoulder again, a foolish grin on his face. They had caught on quick.

Silence met the brothers. An odd urge to smile overtook Cas. However he fought it, still staring blankly at Dean. Smiling would mean that he lost. It made no sense to smile at this time anyway.

By this point Dean was smiling broadly with his hand hovering over Cas’ upper arm. Dean was testing him. Cas refused to look away.  
   
“Can I help you gentlemen with anything?” A serious voice spoke from behind them. Dean and Sam turned quickly, leaving the angel to admire Dean’s features. This game was fun in a way, he decided. It gave Cas time to just allow himself a few moments to stare at the older Winchester brother. He wasn’t sure what it was about Dean that drew him in but it was almost… annoying. Maybe Sam would know.

Dean cleared his throat. “Just observing. We’re federal agents here to investigate the most recent case in the area and we were told that the mother of the victim would be here with her other son.”

The woman nodded solemnly and rose an arm to direct them towards the clearly distressed mother. The three started to walk away, leaving Cas now staring at the gaudy green paint. Out of the corner of his eye, Cas saw Dean rush back towards him, grabbing his forearm and dragging him along.

“C’mon, space cadet, we have to work now.”

“Let’s play again sometime.”

Dean smiled to himself, eyes crinkling. “Sure thing.”


	2. The Ghost of Wings & Cold Compresses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas was trapped in Purgatory and Dean was still struggling with how he was coping. A 'mysterious' visit eases Dean's suffering.

Dean sat up in bed at the sound that filled the room. It was the sound of wings settling. He could almost feel Cas’ presence.

But it was a lie. In the dim light of the room Dean couldn’t see anything. No one was there. The angel that he found to be the most tolerable wasn’t there. The only angel he considered a friend was gone. Left in purgatory. Dean blindly grabbed for the bottle of vodka that was on his bedside table and took a big swig. It burned his throat almost as much as the memory of Cas burned his eyes. In a non-literal sense. Though Dean would give his eyes just to hear Cas’ voice again. To hear the dry sense of humor the angel had picked up.

“Dammit, Cas. I tried, I really did.” Dean muttered as he sat up. In the quiet of his room, Dean allowed himself to shed a few tears. That day was on a never-ending loop in his head. “It’s never enough, is it? It’s always extremes in this life. Cas, please come back. Before I do something stupid. I need you to be my impulse control, or at the very least, I need you to question why I do what I do, to keep me sane.”

The silence in the room grew heavier.

“Cas, answer me.” Dean pleaded softly to no one.

_Dean. I’m sorry. It’s not your fault._

That’s what Cas would say anyway. Laughing bitterly, Dean downed the rest of the bottle. He got up from bed and stumbled across the room to the door. The doorknob was cool to the touch. Or maybe Dean was just feverish. _Great_ , he thought. Getting sick made him into a giant cry baby. And they didn’t have medicine. Dean wandered through the bunker silently, his mind in a haze.

Ice.  
An ice cold beer.

Humming absently Dean made his way to the kitchen to grab a beer. Once he had one in hand, he stared into the fridge.

_Dean._

Maybe one to cool his forehead too…

The ghost of a whisper over his shoulder made Dean shiver. It was just the fever. Wasn’t it? When he turned Dean caught movement from the corner of his eye. Wings? Or rather, the shadow of a pair of wings? They were gone the next second.

“Casti-“ Dean scoffed at himself. Ridiculous. Pathetic. But his eyes stung again nonetheless. “Castiel?”

No sound. No movement.

Dean was in his back in his room and asleep before he could enjoy either of his drinks.  
-  
When he woke up he had a cold compress on his head and medicine sitting on the bedside table with Sam claiming he didn’t wake up at all during the night. He didn’t even go to check on Dean.

“Thanks, Cas.” Dean muttered as he downed some pills and pressed the cold pack to his face. It occurred to Dean that it could have been anyone or anything, but he convinced himself otherwise. It was Cas.

It _had_ to be Cas.

Who else would buy an extra five bottles of medicine?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I suck at descriptions, oops.
> 
> And writing, overall.
> 
> But that's beside the point.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Death (and some swearing).

“You can’t go!” Sam snapped at his brother, his composure finally slipping. Dean looked up from his almost packed bag, scowling.

“Why not?” He demanded, standing. Dean stood tall but not quite as tall as his little brother. He wouldn’t back down though. Not this time. Even if Sam begged and pleaded with him. “Tell me why I can’t go get Cas and drag his ass back here right this minute.”

“B-because..” Sam’s voice trailed off. It sounded almost pained now. His somber mood had come back. Dean wouldn’t face the truth. His idiot brother couldn’t accept the fact that it would be useless.

“Because why, Sammy? Give me one good god damned reason.” Dean stepped forward and grabbed Sam’s shirt in his hands, pulling him close. The anger, the stubbornness, was starting to fade, but Dean was holding on to it for dear life.

“Because… he’s gone, Dean. We both know it.” Sam spoke evenly despite the burning starting in his eyes.

Dean shoved his brother away, glowering. “We don’t know that.” And with that, Dean grabbed his bag and stormed out of the crappy little motel room, not looking back. He tore out of the parking lot only to pull over a mile down the road.

The tears in his eyes were too much. His shoulders ached from tensing up, struggling to hold back his pain.  
 

A sob escaped at last. He dragged his hands over his face harshly, hunching lower in his seat.

Dean knew that Cas was gone.

He had been human after all. All Cas had wanted to do was help, but his human body couldn’t come back from a wound like that one. Dean slammed his hands against the steering wheel as his mind flashed to the last moment he had seen Cas.

Fear and confusion overtook his friends features before his frail body hit the floor.

It had been too late to save him.


End file.
